


A Bird, and a Majestic One at That

by Cjcorrigan



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5571031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cjcorrigan/pseuds/Cjcorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We write now and then," Luvander explained, "and he drops of letters. Sometime by pigeon. He's training them on his boat, you see." -Chapter 5, Steelhands</p>
<p>A story of pigeons and a man who encounters them</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bird, and a Majestic One at That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvanderwon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvanderwon/gifts).



> Written for festivebastion2015 for luvanderwon, who is a great blogger and writer so definitely check out her stuff because she's absolutely amazing! 
> 
> This kind of comes with a stupid and functionally useless headcanon I've had about Luvander for a while, but I haven't been able to fit it into most of my meta, so this gave me the perfect excuse to get it all down! I hope I did your airman justice!

Luvander was a city boy, always had been and always would be, so sometimes when he did things which were so painfully Thremedonian in nature, Ghislain took it with a grain of salt. He didn’t have a choice honestly, so he just shook his head whenever Luvander would dart across the road with disregard of the possibility of getting hit by carriages, and then he would simply had to follow. But the one thing Ghislain could not abide by was the man’s use of the word “pigeon.”

For many years, it had been suspected by the airmen that Luvander had no clue that “pigeon” and “bird” could not be used interchangeably, but it had never been enough of a problem to warrant action until Ghislain became the unlucky bastard to confirm their suspicions.

It had started with a letter, and a ship, and a bird, a rather majestic one at that.

Ghislain had come from a line of proud Ramanthines, the kind that were invested in keeping the old ways from before Ramanthe was simply another territory with Volstov’s name on it alive. At home he had spoken the Ramanthine language, trusted only Ramanthine medicine, listened to his music, and ate his food. They had their own way of doing things, him and his, and it came as no surprise that part of what made it so important was how they went about it. Even the simple act of going to the grocery store, could not be done the Volstovic way, no, in fact, as a child, Ghislain wasn’t allowed to go to the store at all, because Ramanthines got their food the old-fashioned way: by painstakingly training a bird to get it for them.

In fact, when finally he had been chosen to ride Compassus, Ghislain chalked his walking out with a uniform (instead of one less arm like the last guy to try and charm his girl) to his previous experience with other, much smaller birds of prey.

Altansarnai was what he had named her, the first bird to succeed Compassus at his side, and he found her to be more than useful. The hunting purposes she had been raised for suited him, and fulfilled both of his needs in threatening others and delivering letters to a little shop called Yesfir on the Rue d'St. Difference. The only problem was when the golden eagle returned she often came bearing letters that were ended with "p.s. Please tell the big pigeon to not come into the store anymore, as it makes quite a mess every time scares away the customers, thank you!"

Ghislain didn't even have time to understand how Luvander thought he had the power to find a common street pigeon in the middle of the ocean and train it to travel thousands of miles to Volstov and back, because he was too busy, scribbling out his reply, "He's not a pigeon, and also, fuck you."

Later on he had tried to explain it to Luvander as best as he could. "This is a sacred, honored, and revered bird of my people we hunt and work together as one," he'd said in the same tone of voice that he used for small children and imbeciles.

Luvander, on the other hand, sat on his stool, looking at Ghislain with an overindulgent smile, then at Altansarnai, and then back at Ghislain before finally replying in the same voice, "Yes, Ghislain, I know, it's a bird. But it shit in my storage room, therefore it's a pigeon."

Many attempts to make him understand had ended in one or both of them storming out and Ghislain had tried everything he could think of including but not limited to trying to make Luvander see how hard it was to find an obedient pigeon, to buying (stealing) a book full of bird pictures to show him the difference between the two birds, but no luck.

Finally, his aggravation had come to a head when Luvander had pushed one too many of his buttons once the nickname "Pigeon Boy" had come into effect and worse than that, he'd managed to get the others in on it through what he imagined was either blackmail, bribery, or both. To this day, he doesn't know what came over him, all he knows is that one thing led to another and suddenly he was shouting, "THAT'S IT! I'M TAKING THE PIGEON FOR A WALK," calling Altansarnai to him as he stormed out of Yesfir in a huff, but the second he stepped outside, as if the cold air had called him back to his senses, he marched straight back into a smirking, victorious asshole ready to rub his face in it.

"She's not a pigeon."

"If you say so, dear," Luvander shrugged.

"And you knew she wasn't a pigeon," Ghislain huffed.

"Well, who can really say what I may or may not have known maybe since, oh let's say the third or fourth month of this pigeon debacle began?"

"So you admit she's not a pigeon?"

"No, darling," Luvander sighed, hopping down off his chair, "I think you'll find that you just admitted she was when you stormed out in all in a tizzy. So long for now, Pigeon Boy."

**Author's Note:**

> So just some story building notes on this, I kind of think of Ramanthe as sort of like the Mongolia of old, and there raising and hunting with golden eagles and other birds of prey is a practice that has deep cultural roots but is still in practice today. I chose the name of Ghislain's eagle from the Mongolian language, so it came out to be Altansarnai which means "golden rose."


End file.
